


Fashion Plate

by BradyGirl_12



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Challenge Response, Claims Table, Established Relationship, Fashion & Couture, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Male Slash, Prompt Fic, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-10
Updated: 2012-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-29 07:57:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/317574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BradyGirl_12/pseuds/BradyGirl_12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce and Alfred despair of ever teaching Dick fashion sense.  Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Fashion Plate

**Author's Note:**

> Claim: For the [DCU_Freeforall Challenge ](dcu_freeforall.livejournal.com)[(Bruce/Dick)](http://bradygirl-12.livejournal.com/413848.html)  
> Prompt: T 15; P 14: Glitter  
> Prompt Count: (2/15)  
> Warnings: For Dick’s fashion sense! But we love him, anyway. ;)  
> Original LJ Date Of Completion: May 5, 2009  
> Original LJ Date Of Posting: May 5, 2009  
> Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.  
> Original LJ Word Count: 1290  
> Feedback welcome and appreciated.

When it came to fashion sense, his beautiful boy was more Haly’s Circus than Brooks Brothers.

Dick would happily accept the dark, fashionable suits provided for him for special occasions, even admiring the way he looked in them, yet Bruce knew his heart wasn’t really in them.

Bruce and Alfred had despaired of ever teaching Dick good fashion sense. He loved the gaudy, the sparkly, and the brightly-colored.

Not a surprise, considering his Robin costume, but Bruce hadn’t had the heart to forbid the costume all those years ago, knowing the circus associations it held for his newly-grieving little boy.

And, he should really suggest a practical re-design for a college-age young man wearing spangled shorts and baring his arms and legs, but for once, he didn’t want to be practical.

Instead, Dick thrived when his clothes hurt your eyes.

He loved feathers and jewels and sequins and rhinestones. He and Clark would happily sit for hours and discuss costumes, always with bright primary colors. His taste in interior design leaned toward bright splashes of color, certainly not the dark, even somber colors of the Manor.

There was nothing _subtle_ about Dick’s tastes.

Bruce worried that Dick’s heritage was subsumed by the name that was his in spirit, if not on paper. Dick understood that his circus background had to be muted, otherwise people might connect an acrobatic Robin with Dick Grayson. He had to be mindful of being the Wayne heir at all times, dodging the paparazzi or making friends with them, because Dick rarely minded the spotlight. He didn’t wear sequins on campus, but he would never make the Best-Dressed List unless the judges limited his examples to balls and parties and charity events. He had to subsume his brightness at night as Robin to melt into the shadows at Batman’s side.

He lived in the house that bore the adjective ‘stately’ in front of its name, and was surrounded by quiet, refined taste while sawdust and sequins lived in his soul.

Bruce loved Dick being his heir and his partner in life as well as night work, but he still worried about muting that Gypsy soul and fire.

& & & & & &

Dick sat cross-legged on the couch, surrounded by the gifts that Bruce and Alfred had presented to him. There would be a party tomorrow night for friends and family to celebrate his birthday, but tonight was just the three of them, Alfred making one of his favorite meals for dinner (baked chicken, corn, and red bliss smashed potatoes), and baking a strawberry cake with pink frosting and fresh strawberries on top.

His eyes sparkled as he opened box after box, exclaiming over each gift and effusively thanking Bruce and Alfred. It wasn’t an act. He loved getting presents and appreciated every one of them.

He picked up a rectangular box with the tag _‘From Alfred and Bruce’_ and shook it slightly, smiling as he guessed that it would be clothes. “Getting me a new silk shirt with the Wayne monogram, gentlemen?” Dick loved the sensation of silk against his skin. It was one of the reasons that Bruce allowed himself the indulgence of silk sheets on their bed.

Bruce just smiled, waiting patiently while Dick unwrapped the dark-blue paper with the silver bow.

Dick opened the lid and his eyes grew wide, stunned for a second, then the widest grin that Bruce had ever seen spread across his face. He pulled out a jacket.

Not just any jacket.

A _glittery, gaudy_ jacket.

Dick held it up, eyes shining as he looked at the dark-red silk, the collar and cuffs edged in gold and filigreed with tiny emeralds. Sequins glittered and caught the light as Dick turned it back-and-forth.

“Wha…this is _great!”_

Bruce and Alfred exchanged looks, Alfred one of long-suffering while Bruce grinned.

Dick lowered the jacket, eyes still wide. “Bruce, Alfred…I…where could I wear this?”

“Anywhere you wanted. I trust your judgment,” Bruce said with a smile. _Just not your taste._

Dick looked at each man and laughed joyously. “Don’t worry, I won’t go to the Standish Ball next week wearing this! But I’ve got some places in mind.” He stood up and quickly put the jacket on, turning and twisting to see the play of light on his jacket. “I’ve got to see it in a mirror!” He started to dash off, then hugged Alfred, who patted his back as Dick gushed, “Thank you, Alfred!” and then embraced Bruce, kissing him sweetly and pulling back with a heavy-lidded look. “Thank you, Bruce,” his eyes promising much more to come. He ran off to find a mirror, chattering, “Wait’ll Clark sees _this!”_ ribbons of light following him like rainbows from a pot of gold.

Bruce was slightly dazed, only coming out of it when Alfred sighed.

“Are you _certain_ we should have gotten him that jacket, sir?”

“Actually, we had it _custom-made_ , Alfred.”

Alfred shuddered. “Our reputation is effectively ‘shot’, sir, in the world of men’s fashion.”

Bruce laughed. “I won’t disagree.”

Alfred picked up the boxes, stacked them neatly, and folded the clothes that were most decidedly not glittery on the couch, the other presents carefully placed on one end.

“Coffee, Master Bruce?”

“Thank you, Alfred.”

Bruce thought of sequins and bright colors and sighed, not unhappily.

& & & & & &

Patrol went well, Robin sparkling with joy while he still managed to stay in the shadows. It was a talent that never failed to amaze Batman.

The Bat-signal summoned them to the roof of the GCPD, Jim Gordon standing by the light in his trenchcoat and smoking his pipe, smiling at Robin’s own light as the Teen Wonder smiled and sparkled.

The Commissioner gave them an update on the latest plans for improving Arkham Asylum security, Robin laughing and saying, “The day that place is escape-proof, I’ll eat my cape!” When he went to the edge of the roof after saying goodbye, Jim said, “I don’t even need this signal light. All I have to do is wave Robin around, and that’s light enough.”

Batman smiled. “I agree.”

“Gotham needs his light.”

Batman nodded. “So do I,” he said so softly that he didn’t think that Jim could hear him.

But, of course, Jim did.

& & & & & &

The night was not too busy but not too quiet. They broke up a gang fight and stopped a mugging, and Robin chatted with a few patrolmen while handing over the mugger, the officers smiling as sunshine spilled from Dick to lighten the gloom of the alley. The Dynamic Duo returned home and showered, ate cookies and drank milk in the kitchen, and headed upstairs.

Bruce shed his robe and gratefully climbed into bed. The night might not have been excessively busy, but he still felt tired. Dick went into the bathroom.

He began to drift off when he heard a soft voice call his name. Opening his eyes, his jaw dropped.

Dick was standing at the foot of the bed, dressed in his green spangled shorts, pixie boots, and gloves. A yellow silk scarf was tossed cavalierly around his neck. Blue eyes sparkled, the lenses snapped back from his domino mask.

And he was wearing the jacket.

“Ready for your birthday present, Brucie?” He stretched, his bare chest framed by the jacket.

“It’s _your_ birthday.”

“I like to spread the wealth…among _other_ things.”

Dick did a quick twirl, the moonlight catching the sequins and streaming out around him. He stopped and looked at Bruce with sparkling eyes, then hopped onto the bed and on top of Bruce with a shout of joy, Bruce grabbing his hips.

Dick didn’t have taste, but he sure did have style.


End file.
